


penfriend

by ever_increasing_circles



Category: British Comedian RPF, Pointless RPF
Genre: Gen, University, Yuletide, Yuletide 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 09:03:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_increasing_circles/pseuds/ever_increasing_circles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander and Richard work towards their deadlines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	penfriend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amethyst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethyst/gifts).



> A Yuletide treat, because I saw people requesting Pointless and couldn't help wanting to treat everybody! Trivia: Richard Osman is a script editor on Total Wipeout. That's where the idea for a lot of this came from, haha. Hope you enjoy :)
> 
> Any similarity between the fictional versions of the people portrayed here and the actual people is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person).

On any other day at any other time, Richard would have been perfectly happy to open his door to find Alexander standing on the other side; as things were, however, tomorrow was _that deadline_ and tonight was set up to be the last-minute scramble to get everything finished and sorted and present and correct. He'd managed to make it this far in his university career without finding himself in this sort of a situation, so it almost felt natural that Alexander should pick _now_ to appear. Reason and excuse mingled together and neither gave any relief to the situation - this was just how things had turned out. Tonight would be that staple of student anecdotes, that last-minute rush before an imminent deadline. Current priority was the library; anything else he could do in the comfort of his own room, but the library had a closing time and he had books he still needed and _oh god why didn't I do any of this earlier._

Alexander stood in the corridor, choosing not to fill the momentary silence between them with anything like a _reason_ for his presence. He smiled, but Richard couldn't help noticing some touch of weariness there; he was used to the full force of Alexander's smile at the best of times, and now clearly was not one of those. He noted both this and the collection of documents held tight against his chest. Far too late for shared study though, even if they _had_ been taking the same subjects...

"Good afternoon, Richard...! May I come in?"

"Um..." Richard ran his hand through his hair, weighing up his social obligations. He stepped out of the doorframe and smiled (but distracted) as he gestured towards the fairly unremarkable interior of his room. "Sure, why not. Oh, but--... can we make this quick, though? Only I'm kind of--... deadlines are happening. Got things I really need to get done by tomorrow morning."

"Oh, you too?"

(Perhaps there _was_ the intention of shared study after all.) "... Yes, me too. ...I'm guessing I don't have to ask you why you're here anymore then, do I?"

Alexander walked over to Richard's desk and deposited his pile of papers on the empty spot directly in front of the chair. "It's my own fault, of course." He turned to face Richard, his expression rueful. "Do you want my laundry list of excuses, or should I save them for tomorrow's meeting?"

Given that Alexander had already taken the desk's chair, Richard perched himself on the edge of his bed. "Meeting?"

"Mm. I fear I focused too heavily on my academic duties - not that one should say there anything _wrong_ with this, it's just--... put simply, I agreed to take on some script duties I perhaps shouldn't have done." He ran his fingers across the surface of the topmost piece of paper. "Charged on blindly, always assuming I'd have time. And now the first meeting of the production is tomorrow...! The first meeting, where we look at the script and begin to decide roles. We can't do that without a script...!"

"... You didn't tell anybody you were having problems?"

"It didn't feel like a problem until I realised what day it was...! I've been thinking it Wednesday all day, today. No, but--... well, _yes_ , probably I should have told somebody, I agree. The time for that has long passed though, Richard. Had this been a month ago, I wouldn't find myself in this current predicament. However, I did tell you, didn't I? It's my own fault, and it would be quite unfair to saddle this on anybody else, twenty-four hours before the deadline. No, they're relying on me. I can't let them down."

 _The Footlights, of course_. Richard offered no outward judgement on Alexander's circumstance; truthfully, he didn't envy his friend in the slightest. He saw the appeal of clubs and societies and understood Alexander's choice in these extracurricular activities, but couldn't help but wonder sometimes - _now_ being one of them - if Alexander took on more than he could reasonably handle. He'd said as much himself, though: he wasn't somebody who would give up on something when people were relying on him and that was surely admirable, but when you had choir duties _and_ the Footlights _and_ your actual university study, the possibility of getting snowed under seemed very real indeed. He looked to Alexander and felt that certain sort of frustration on his behalf; Alexander was too dedicated a student to even allow the possibility of letting his marks slip ( _no all-nighters for you, are there?_ ) but something had to give, and apparently the Footlights production was that one thing. Were it anybody else in this situation, Richard would have backed up their admission of failure as far as was needed, but he knew Alexander well enough to know that this wasn't a result he was prepared to acknowledge. People were relying on him, therefore he'd produce results. That was all there was to the matter.

"Well... okay. ...That doesn't explain why you're _here_ , though."

"Ah, yes. Well, I've taken the slightly cowardly option, I'm afraid; they don't know I'm here, which is a good thing. I don't _think_ they're likely to come knocking on your door, looking for me. Maybe they'll want to see the script or, quite understandably, just want to check it _is_ ready... which it isn't, but they don't have to know that just yet. I'm sorry, Richard - I've rather made you my refuge, barging in here like this. ...And with you working to a deadline, too. I don't mean to be an inconvenience, please do tell me to get out and back to my room if it's really likely to be a bother--"

"It's no bother, Xander. It's fine, it's fine." Strictly speaking, Richard would still have preferred this to happen on any other night than that before his own deadline. However, more than that was how uncommon it was to hear such negativity from Alexander's mouth, especially aimed towards _himself_ ; perhaps it _was_ an inconvenience, but it was surely only the mildest of the mild and nothing really worth mentioning. Richard felt entirely confident that, if the situation were reversed, then Alexander would accept it with a smile and a nod and as many words of encouragement as he felt Richard needed. Quietly, in thoughts so far down Alexander would never think to find them, Richard knew this line of logic his own personal weakness - especially when _Alexander_ was involved. That said, he felt that having reliable friends could only be considered a fairly luxurious sort of a weakness; having made his mind up, Richard stood from the bed and went over to stand near the desk, his hands on his hips. "... You just need to hide here, right?" He shrugged. "Fine by me. As I said, I've got things I've got to get done - I was about to head out to the library, so--... so if you wanted to stay here while I'm over there, that's... that's fine."

Alexander's expression brightened. "I think that works out quite nicely then, doesn't it? Make sure you lock the door behind you. Stops _them_ getting in and me from getting out."

Richard was about to agree, before his mind clicked into the fact of what Alexander was actually _saying_. "Wait, what was that?"

"If I can't leave the room, then I'll have no choice but to knuckle down with this script." He indicated to the papers on the desk. "I've got everything I need right here, I just need to focus. ...How long do you think you'll be at the library?"

Richard pulled his sleeve back enough to be able to look at his wristwatch. "I've got about four hours before it shuts. ...So about four hours, then." Talking about _that_ reminded him of his deadline; in those four hours he could probably take enough notes that he didn't need to take _every_ book out of the library (and indeed, factors such as 'physical weight' and 'the amount one could take out on one student library card' worked against him in this respect), and perhaps the atmosphere of the library would be enough for him to be able to pull the last of those notes together into something he could hand in the following morning...? He put his hand on the back of the chair Alexander sat at and reached over to one of the notebooks lined up at the back of the desk. "How long does it take to write a script?"

"Probably about as long as it takes for you to finish off your... whatever-it-is you have to do."

"Right, I see." Richard patted down his pockets to make sure he had the most important things (pens, key, library card) before going back over to the door. He hesitated for a moment, casting his gaze across the room as he worried, moments too late, that there might be anything there that he wouldn't want Alexander to see. Nothing came to mind, however, and if Alexander was reliable then Richard also liked to consider him trustworthy, and so it would _probably_ be fine. This wasn't his bedroom at home and Alexander was far from the errant older brother looking to cause mischief, and so, probably, it was fine. _Probably_. Alexander smiled at him from the desk and he managed a smile back, his hand on the doorhandle. "Okay, then. I'll... see you when I get back? Good luck with your thing."

"And the very best of luck to you for yours...!"

Richard left the room and closed the door behind him, hesitating again as he reached to his pocket for the key. Alexander had said to lock the door though, so...? He shrugged lightly to himself as he turned the key in the lock and then stood there a few moments longer, in case of any sort of a _reaction_. He wasn't quite sure what it was he might have expected though, and on hearing nothing from inside the room supposed the situation dealt with.

He touched the centre of the door one last time before leaving, hoping only that Alexander would be able to meet his deadline. Returning to an Alexander victorious felt, by far, like the most preferable outcome.

 

\--

 

Richard stepped out of the library, feeling the winter chill of the air hit him as he did so. The advancing days of the year meant it now completely dark at this time of the night - he hadn't really been paying attention to the world outside as he'd worked, and so there was that _slight_ disconnect of knowing it had certainly been light when he'd walked in, but now...? There was something, however, that felt quite natural and proper about that fact too. It was dark, it was nighttime, it was _time to go home_. And it was cold, but he'd be back to his room soon enough. And the world took on that glorious new perspective from the sense of having had a weight lifted; he had to tidy up what he had, organise it all into something a little more coherent, but that was nothing that couldn't be done back at his own desk. He'd taken notes and written to plan and all that remained now were matters of presentation, and that could be easily dealt with. Time-consuming, but by no means _difficult_.

He thought about Alexander as he returned to his building, as he let himself in through the doors and corridors that would lead him back through to his room. As he had paused to leave it, so did he pause to return; would Alexander have finished by now? Maybe he was still working. Richard took the keys from his pocket once more, hoping that his presence wouldn't disturb Alexander's productivity too much.

He didn't think to be quiet as he unlocked and opened the door, but on walking into the room to find Alexander asleep at the desk, Richard stopped in his tracks and shut the door quietly behind him. He stood against it for a few moments, taking in the scene; Alexander's papers were spread around him on the desk (and a couple on the floor, placed neatly as if for a purpose). Alexander himself lay slumped forward with his head nestled on folded arms, his breathing deep and even. It seemed as if Richard's return hadn't disturbed him in the slightest, which was good, but he was _asleep_ , which was... was that good or bad? Had he fallen asleep before being able to finish?! Richard stepped over and shook him gently by the shoulder, "Xander. Xander, c'mon. Wakey wakey."

"Hrmn _mnn_ mnr." The noise was one of discomfort, and he just seemed more determined to keep his position. Richard stepped away, remembering shared nights previous - nights less of deadlines than of alcohol, and Alexander's ability to fall into the deepest of slumbers on the most slight of provocations. There hadn't been any alcohol tonight (as far as Richard knew), but how long had Alexander been awake beforehand? The script was clearly the last thing on his list of priorities for him to be here in the first place, but how many more things had been on that list? Richard didn't doubt that he'd been working hard up to now, but didn't know how he'd even _hope_ to be able to rouse Alexander in order to do this one last thing.

Richard put his own papers down on his bed with a sigh, unsure as to how to deal with the situation. He looked from there back to Alexander, and supposed that the best place for someone asleep _was_ bed over the relative discomfort of the desk and its harsh flat surfaces. Taking his papers back to the desk, Richard stood by Alexander to try to work out the logistics of his plan; the way he leant forward gave Richard an easy opening, and the distance from the desk to the bed was not particularly great. With that in mind, Richard slipped one arm beneath Alexander's own and the other across his back, lifting him to something like a standing position. He thought that this might be enough to wake Alexander, but apparently not; there came another sleepy grumble, but that was it.

"Hmmn _mm_."

"Can't go falling asleep at desks, it'll do your back in. Come on. Over here."

" _Mmm._ "

Having pulled back the duvet, Richard managed to engineer Alexander to fall in a way that would land him squarely in bed; he did so, rolling from his side onto his back and _still not awake_. Richard stood up straight, marvelling slightly on this fact, then went to pull Alexander's shoes off before pulling the duvet back over him. "... Out like a light. I don't believe you, sometimes."

Walking back over to the desk and throwing himself into the chair, Richard sighed as he shifted Alexander's papers to the side, placing his own in the space this made. He wondered if he should have made more of an effort to wake Alexander up, but thought it might not hurt to leave him to sleep just for a _little_ while. If he'd fallen asleep at his desk then most likely that wasn't by choice, and if sleep was what his body had decided it needed, who was Richard to argue with that? Also was the fact that Alexander being asleep meant that Alexander wasn't awake and, for as long as that lasted, Richard could tend to his own work in peace. Perhaps Alexander would wake up in time for a midnight panic, but that would be fine. Even that would still give him plenty of time to do whatever it was he had left to do.

Hours passed, and still Alexander slept. Richard knew Alexander the type to both sleep and wake early; he came to the end of his own work, wondering if this was Alexander just out for the night, now. He leant back in his chair, considering this; there still lay this canyon of seven or so hours before Richard would be able to hand his work in. In any other circumstance he would have congratulated himself on beating another deadline and taken himself a well-deserved six-and-a-half-hour nap, but that certain sort of adrenaline still pumped its way through him, leaving him feeling quite, quite awake. That, and the fact that Alexander was still occupying his bed. There was always the floor, but Richard found that even less comfortable than falling asleep at desks. Perhaps when Alexander woke up, they could swap places? _That could work._

He found himself looking over what Alexander had left on his desk, picking up the papers from the floor and putting them to the side. Skim-reading those and the surrounding papers, they seemed to be pages of characters, character motivations, that sort of thing. _To be expected from an English student_. The largest pile was, Richard assumed, the script itself; the topmost page bore only the title of the work, so he glanced further, fuelled by nothing more than idle curiosity. On reading the opening paragraph he paused, wondering if it was really alright for him to be reading this - but then, he supposed, it _was_ a script, and wasn't a script made to be performed? If it wasn't him then it would only be the involved Footlights members, come that meeting that Alexander considered his deadline. What did they write about? What had _Alexander_ written about? Richard leafed from page to page, letting himself get drawn in.

On the last page, surprisingly, lay a stylised ' _the end_ '. On reaching that point, Richard looked between the page and where Alexander still slept. _Did you actually manage to finish this?_ The script _had_ been neatly piled there on the desk, after all. Perhaps the limit of his endurance had been to finish, and only then had he let himself fall asleep - even if it _was_ on the spot. Again, Richard felt some small sense of relief. He'd met his deadline, it seemed that Alexander had done too - they'd made it! He'd be able to hand in his essay and Alexander would be able to attend his meeting free of guilt, and-- Richard found himself going between the script and that additional material, again, simply curious. Reading that having read the script, understanding something a little more and a little deeper, _but shouldn't that be evident from the page?_ Again, Richard looked to Alexander, but knew him in no state to be taking questions, not for the time being. He reached for a pen before he thought to stop himself, only doing so once he'd removed the lid and sat with his pen hovering over the paper. He pursed his lips. Would Alexander thank him for this? _Spelling mistake, there. Simple error._ Sleeping playwright. Still hours to go. Richard pulled out some blank sheets of paper, starting also, on his front sheet, with the title.

 

\--

 

Richard opened his door, on hearing the knock, to find Alexander stood there, bearing alcohol and a smile. It was hard not to smile back in the face of those two things; Richard held the door open and stepped back. "What's this?"

"A reward! For being so helpful. And I _did_ impose on you, after all. For all of these things, here: a token of my appreciation."

On the night of the deadline, Alexander had slept soundly through the rest of the night; Richard had left early to hand in his essay, and had returned to find Alexander - and his script - absent from the room. Supposing the noise of him leaving had been the thing to finally wake Alexander up, Richard had set the matter to one side and caught up on his own sleep and thought little more on it. And then, days later, _this_.

Richard took the bottle, looking down at it and then up at Alexander. "Well, I--" (His first instinct was to insist that he didn't deserve such a thing, but he had been on the receiving end of gifts from Alexander enough times to know him generous to a fault, and also not one to take no for an answer, at least where presents were involved.) "--... Thank you very much...!"

Again, Alexander walked in and took the chair by the desk. Richard placed the bottle on the back corner, where there was some space (and it helped prop up a couple of notepads), before falling back across the length of his bed, propping up his head with one fist. "It went well, then?"

"We're drawing up copies for rehearsals, now. I must say, though, you have very neat handwriting."

"And yours is quite... erratic."

"Ha, yes, you might be right. Had I slept at all in the thirty-two hours previous, I'm sure it might have been a _bit_ neater. All the same, I think you've saved their bacon as well as mine!" His smile grew soft, a fond expression on his face. "You didn't have to do all of that though, Richard. I'm really quite fortunate."

"Yeah, well. I didn't know if you'd want me reading it or not, but I ended up reading it anyway... and I was on a roll, I'd just finished all my stuff, figured I might as well just keep awake until the office opened, and you were dead to the world, so--... did you say thirty-two hours?!"

"I had quite a few deadlines crop up all at once. If nothing else, I've learnt from this experience to _never let that happen again_! It was all a bit too much stress for my liking. I'll try not to worry about how they'll mark me until I get the papers back."

"... No wonder I couldn't wake you."

Alexander stood up from the chair, patting his knees as he did so. "Well, I just came by to give you that, and to thank you, Richard. Thank you. ...If you ever felt like sitting in on some of the meetings yourself, I'm sure we could only ever benefit from your presence. Aside from that, however - I believe we aim to have this to the stage by the middle of next month. Would you like to come along?"

"Sure, I'd like that. Be interesting to see how it all turns out. ...You're not going to tell them all that you fell asleep on the script and I was the one who corrected it though, are you?" Richard couldn't help but wonder how well such an admission would reflect back on Alexander, but this question only caused a smile.

"You're too humble, Richard. If I want to let them know how lucky I am to have you, I'm not too sure you'll be able to stop me, I'm afraid."

He left the room after that, echoing reminders for Richard to check his calendar for the period of time the performance was likely to be; Richard found himself doing so, though knowing that he had little on otherwise. If Alexander wanted him there, he had little reason not to be. If Alexander was going to go that far to praise him, either as a friend or as a script-editor, he wasn't about to push that aside too quickly either.

For the rest of the day, people Richard encountered would ask him what that quiet little smile of his was for. He didn't elaborate.

 

 

 

_end_


End file.
